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Submitted to Contest #44
Her iPhone had been buzzing in the pocket of her black dress throughout the service, and Estelle had been finding it increasingly hard to ignore. She knew it was Derek. He had been skeptical at first about her flying up to Boston to visit him, especially after 11 long years apart, but the excitement had been building as their texts and calls over the past few days rekindled, at the least, a friendship once lost. Next to her, Estelle’s mom, Barb, continued to openly sob in the pew. Her dad looked forward but not quite at her sister’s cl...
Submitted to Contest #43
“Mia, Mia, Mia,” my mother would say, wagging her finger at me, “when will you just get over yourself?” I didn’t mind the finger-wagging, but I hated the implication that I was being selfish in some way. That just wasn’t me then or now, but that was never what she was really trying to say. Mom knew that I lived in my own head. That I live in my own head. That I obsess about how I look, how I’m perceived, who I am deep inside that no one, I mean no one, can ever know. Does that make me selfish? Did mom have a point? I want to sit and ta...
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